Mortal Glory
by Alakata
Summary: The Potters survived that Halloween, but growing up in the public eye isn't easy for the BWL. With parents who grow more distant every year and a destiny he's not sure he wants, Harry finds it all too easy to stray from the path set for him. dark!Harry
1. Ritual

**DISCLAIMER:** If I owned Harry Potter, the Wizarding World would be a very, very different place to what it is. Alas, I do not. Woe is me. I don't own anything else you recognise, either.

**SUMMARY**: Fame changes even the best of us, and it certainly changed the Potters. Although James and Lily survived that Halloween, Harry's status as a hero means that he is never allowed to be just a child, and the Potters are never allowed to be just a family. Faced with the immense stress of raising "The Boy Who Lived" to be a credit to society and avoiding the scandal section of the _Daily Prophet, _as well as juggling their own jobs and lives, they almost had to go wrong somewhere. It is perhaps understandable that they forgot that Harry was a child as well as a hero, but beneath the mask of the Boy Who Lived their words cut deep and children are rarely forgiving. And in a world of blood and magic, everything has its cost, and survival doesn't come cheap. Dark, intelligent!Harry. Politics, intrigue, ancient pureblood customs and parts of the Wizarding World you've never seen before. Old, dark things that would have been better forgotten. Subjective morality and a deeper look at Dark Magic and the reasons behind blood prejudice. And, above all, one child's journey down a darker path to glory that will take everything and just maybe give him the world in return.

**WARNINGS**: AU. Swearing. Disturbing themes. Blood, gore, references to violence and torture. Some emotional & physical abuse (not necessarily to Harry), favouritism, angst, character death, the whole shebang. References to sex. A dark or grey Harry. Possible future slash or het. Spoilers from most of the books at some point. Expect canon to be bent and twisted, and for canon events to happen but not at their canon times. I think that's all for now. Consider this a blanket warning - it won't all show up in this chapter. Maybe not at all.

**PAIRINGS**: None, yet, except obvious canon ones (Lily/James, Arthur/Molly, etc). There won't be any for a while, and any relationships involving Harry while he's still in school aren't likely to last. Who finds true love with the first person they go out with, really? Feel free to suggest any you'd like to see, though.

**NOTES (Update: 10/06/11): **Well. Okay. Hello *wave* I'm still alive! Long story short, I lost the chapter I'd written while I was in Germany (I lost all my notes, actually – they're rotting in a German campsite somewhere D:), and after that I just couldn't get anything to flow right for this... but I've got a clearer idea of where I'm going with it now. To everyone who's reviewed/favourited this: I'd never given up on it completely, but you all gave me the motivation to keep going when I was seriously considering it. Thank you so much!

Regarding the update itself, this is a complete rewrite. Chapter 1 (the prologue on this page) is completely different – the original was basically a rehash of the whole Voldemort-Attacks-Godric's-Hollow thing, and not terribly interesting, so I scrapped it. I don't know if this is much better, but I didn't want to mess up the chapter/review structure. Chapters 2 and 3 are basically the same content-wise, but have been considerably lengthened and should flow much better now (and make a lot more sense, frankly).

And now, on with the story, because this A/N is already way too long in comparison with the prologue xD

**The prologue is the only chapter in present tense, and following chapters are much longer. **

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_And the skies were blue  
Fairest summer ever known  
Sweet lily blossom fragrance  
Mingled with scent of  
Power and mortal glory  
Headed for the precipice  
Join hands all friends in cataclysm  
And thread the world's ending, the last Wiener waltz_

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**Mortal Glory**

**Chapter One: Rituals**

The crystal chalice at the centre of the ring shatters as the woman chants the last word and drops, panting, to her knees, overwhelmed by the force of this magic she has wrought. The spiraling salt lines extending from its base hiss as the purified water it used to hold washes over them, silently erasing any trace of their existence.

When she finally staggers to her feet, there is a savage, triumphant gleam in her eyes, a satisfaction that eclipses the fear that perhaps she has made a mistake, that perhaps she should simply have trusted fate to be kind.

That doubt will haunt her later, but for now all she knows is that she has won a precious victory against all odds.

For hours after the woman leaves, Stonehenge sings, humming with unnatural energy. There is nothing near save the grass and the silent watchful stones themselves; any living thing that could fled the moment they smelt the mint smoke and heard the old words rising towards the dawning sun. They remember, as animals do, in their blind, instinctive fashion.

It is only her kind who have forgotten.


	2. Aftermath

**DISCLAIMER: **It still doesn't belong to me =[ That honour goes to JKR and Warner and co.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Aftermath**

'_The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children.'_

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

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**1st November, 1981 - Auror Office, Ministry of Magic, London**

Millicent Bagnold pushed her way through the swarm of reporters clamouring for an answer to the question that had been on everyone's lips that day, snapping out an acerbic "No comment!" to anyone stupid enough to ask her what was going on. She didn't know herself!

There had been rumours flying around all day, but they hardly seemed credible - really, the Ministry's finest Aurors hadn't been able to so much as touch him through thirteen years of terror and He Who Must Not Be Named was killed by a baby? It was preposterous. It was so preposterous that she couldn't help but wonder if it might be true.

Millicent had taken the job of Minister last year, and for a while she had been sure that she would go down in history as the first British Minister of Magic to have her government totally overrun by a Dark Lord in over four hundred years of legitimate rule, but now... If it was true...

Spurred on by that hope she swept into the Auror Office, searching the crowded room for Albus Dumbledore or the Potters or, Circe, just anyone who could tell her for sure what the hell was going on. It took a while, because everyone who had even the flimsiest reason to be here was hanging about waiting for answers and it was hard to see through the commotion, but eventually she spotted the Headmaster of Hogwarts - she'd never thought she'd say it, but apparently there really was some use for those gaudy eyesores he insisted on wearing - standing near Barty Crouch and Amelia Bones and - Merlin, was that the Potters?

They were slumped around a lurid yellow and blue table that had obviously been conjured by Albus, their faces drawn and wan under the bright office lights. It had evidently been a very long day for them. She had no doubt that they'd been asked variations of the same question all day, and it had taken its inevitable toll on them. The little boy - Harry, she thought that was his name, it had been a muggle name hadn't it? - was fidgeting in Mrs Potter's lap, no doubt uncomfortable with all the noise and the curious, disbelieving stares he was receiving from all and sundry. It would do him no good. If the rumours were true, then he'd have to get used to the attention. The media would be calling him a hero before the day was out, if they weren't already.

A thin young man in the vermillion robes of a Junior Auror turned as she walked past where he was standing and reached out, questions on his lips. "Minister-"

"Not now!" She swatted his hand away from her sleeve, brushed past him and after what seemed an eternity of walking made her way over to the Potters.

"Is it true? Is he really gone?" she demanded.

They hardly seemed to notice what she'd said, that she was there at all, and Millicent frowned. Perhaps the rumours weren't true after all; and although she'd hardly allowed herself to hope, the cruel disappointment of that thought roiled bitterly in her throat. Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask again, Lord Potter looked up.

"It's true," he said flatly, and her heart leapt at the beauty of those two words. It was true. He was gone. It was over. They were free.

She let out the breath she hadn't even realised she was holding. Then she started to smile, slowly at first and then so widely that for a moment she was sure her face would tear in two with the force of her delight. "Gone," she breathed, awestruck. "Really, truly gone?"

She could hear the indulgent chuckle in the old coot's voice when he spoke. "Yes, Millicent. He is truly gone. Vanquished at little Harry's hand. And there is proof. I have already confirmed that it is indeed Lord Voldemort's body and wand that your Aurors have in custody." Millicent shuddered - why the man insisted on using the name, she really didn't know. She wished he would stop doing it. It tempted fate.

"It's over, then?"

"I believe so, yes," Albus said. She would forgive him, though. Not even that name could bring her down today. "Without Lord Voldemort's leadership the Death Eaters will seek to hide. Some will already have gone into hiding, I suspect."

"Of course, we'll need strict measures in place to capture them before they all run to ground." Crouch's voice washed over her like ice water. He was frowning at her, but that was nothing new. She'd rarely seen him without a scowl on his face. Seeing someone happy probably offended him or something. Well, let him disapprove. She'd never liked the man anyway. Crouch had been pushing for more power for the Aurors for years now, and he'd got it; and then asked for more. She didn't like it. There were Aurors - not all of them, but enough - who seemed to think that having authorisation to use the Unforgivables against Death Eaters meant that they had to use them. To the exclusion of more appropriate, less blatantly evil spells. Now that the war was over, she'd have to get the Wizengamot to rescind that particular privilege before it was further abused.

"We're worried about retaliatory strikes against Aurors, and especially the Potters," Amelia Bones added. On the other hand, Millicent liked the new head of the Auror Office. She had a good head on her shoulders, that girl, and a seemingly incorruptible sense of justice. Good old Hufflepuffs, huh? If they were all like Amelia, then they weren't given nearly enough credit. She'd risen quickly through the Auror ranks. It was just a pity she hadn't risen that little bit further and gotten rid of Crouch yet.

"Makes sense," Millicent admitted thoughtfully, glancing with some concern at the silent family huddled around the table. Had they been hurt? Cursed, perhaps? It dawned on her that she knew almost nothing about what had actually happened - how had they survived, for one? - and it didn't look like she was going to be getting her answers any time soon. They didn't seem to be aware of anything except themselves at the moment.

"Yes, you're right, Amelia. If the papers run around calling little Harry a hero - and they are, I could hear those vultures talking about it when I came in - then the Death Eaters are bound to know exactly who to blame. They'll want revenge for You Know Who's… death. Should we assign a protection detail to the Potters? What do you suggest, Albus? Bartemius?"

"I had thought that they might go back into hiding for a while, at least until the majority of the Death Eaters have been rounded up." Albus' light tone and the ever-present twinkles seemed out of place, given the gravity of the situation they were discussing. Lives were at risk! She glared at him; he looked contrite for a moment, but she wasn't fooled. The man was incorrigible. Just as bad as Crouch, except in the opposite way: the infuriating man was always happy.

"Where would be safe-" Millicent started, redirecting her thoughts to the matter at hand. Her mouth slammed shut with an audible 'click' when James Potter cut in sharply.

"No," he said. "We're not going back into hiding. We've done enough of that these past two years, and look where it's gotten us."

The end of the war, some sort of safety for our children and at the very least an Order of Merlin, Third Class, she wanted to say, pressed her lips into thin lines in an attempt to keep silent, and found she couldn't do it.

"Mr Potter, please," she said. "Think of your son! He's going to be a national hero, definitely an Order of Merlin in store- I dread to think what would happen if the Death Eaters were to get their hands on him!"

Mrs Potter, visibly shaking, thrust the boy into Mr Potter's arms and leapt to her feet. "Stop it! Shut up!"

Millicent flinched at the unexpected fury of her voice, recoiling warily from the furious woman in front of her. Suddenly she wasn't sure that Lily Potter was entirely muggleborn... were they really sure that there wasn't a bit of harpy in there? Banshee, maybe?

"That's my son you're talking about! Do you not think I'm worried about him? Of course I am! But we can't continue to hide from those bastards forever, it would be as good as letting them win! And there is no way, absolutely no way that I am going to let you turn my son into some sort of ... political chess piece!"

She supposed she could see where Mrs Potter was coming from - perhaps it was unfair, cruel even, to so quickly begin to see the child in terms of how he could be useful to her and to her country - but that was life for you and if presenting Harry Potter as a miraculous saviour could do anything to help her people heal from this war, then she would damn well give them their saviour. It would be good for everyone if Harry became a public figure, someone for the people to look up to - and besides, what child didn't like getting attention? He'd love his fame. Love being special.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Potter. But I don't think you have a choice in this. The people will idolise him no matter what you do."

The other woman stared at her, her bright green eyes wide and almost wild for a moment before she suddenly deflated with a tired sigh. "I just don't want that sort of life for my son, Minister," she said quietly, sinking back into her seat. "Always in danger, from Death Eater remnants or wannabe Dark Lords or people looking for their fifteen minutes of fame... It's no way to grow up."

A stunned silence trembled in the air between them for a long moment, broken only by the buzz of nearly a hundred Aurors gossiping instead of doing their jobs.

"At this juncture, I do not believe there is any way to prevent it, Lily," said Albus, laying a gentle hand on Mrs Potter's thin, quivering shoulder and twinkling at her over his half-moon glasses. "Word has already gotten out, and it will continue to spread in the coming days. The Boy Who Lived, I believe they're calling him. But I know you and James well; and I hold no doubt that you will carry this heavy burden magnificently, and teach him to handle his fame with care. Prevent him from growing arrogant from all the adoration he will no doubt receive."

"You've seen the way the muggle world treats its celebrities, Albus! Always demanding things, and so quick to condemn them if they put one foot out of line... No child should have to carry that sort of burden, and especially not my son. With what happened tonight, and the Pro..."

The Pro? What did she mean, 'the Pro'? Mrs Potter had cut herself off before she finished the word, and Millicent made a note to find out just what was going on here. It seemed there were an awful lot of things she was unaware of, and Millicent Bagnold did not like being ignorant.

Mrs Potter continued on, her voice soft, unsteady. "Well, you know what people will expect of him. They'll expect him to be perfect. They'll demand that he be perfect and he won't be able to do it. They'll break him."

"No, they won't," Mr Potter said, his handsome face fierce with determination as he slipped an arm around his wife's waist and held both her and Harry - the Boy Who Lived - close. "We'll make sure of that, Lils. If they want to get anything out of him, they'll have to go through us first."

Millicent looked away, too embarrassed to watch as Mrs Potter lay her head on her husband's shoulder and began to cry. She noticed Crouch and Amelia do the same. Lily Potter wasn't a pureblood, she couldn't know - and besides, it didn't really matter. Not today.

"Perhaps," Millicent suggested softly, wary of the reaction she might receive from the obviously quite volatile Potters, "you might be better off returning home, Mr Potter. I'm sure it's been a very long day for you and your family."

He looked up, evidently surprised by the suggestion, then nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah, that's a good idea, Minister."

"Go home, James, and take your family with you," Amelia agreed. "I'm sure we can survive without you for a day or two more, although I need to see Black soon. Do let him know, won't you?"

"Yeah, I'll let him know, Amelia. Thank you," Mr Potter said. He murmured something to his shaking wife and gently lead her to the nearest fireplace. The three of them disappeared in a flash of emerald green.

The silence stretched on awkwardly for a moment after the Potters left, the four of them lost in consideration of what the day's events would mean for them.

"Well," Millicent said, dismissing the thought of Harry Potter and his parents for the moment. Making decisions for Gryffindors never worked well, so the problem of their protection would have to be sorted out another day. There were other matters at hand, though, temporarily forgotten in the wake of Lily Potter's fury.

"You mentioned you had You Know Who's ... body. And his wand. What is going to be done with those? Are they to be burnt?" If anyone deserved cremation, it was You Know Who, after all.

"Yes," Crouch said. Millicent started. That surely couldn't have been glee in Crouch's voice. "We don't want the body to become a rallying point for the Death Eaters, after all."

"No, definitely not," she agreed. "So how long before it can be done?"

"A few days. Our Aurors are currently ... examining the body. To see what they can learn, of course." Crouch shot Amelia a hard glance when she said that: the young head of the Auror Office was barely suppressing a smile. Millicent wondered what was going on that she didn't know about.

"I don't believe that Lord Voldemort's body will be in quite as good shape when it leaves here as it was when it entered Auror custody," Albus commented with a chuckle. She frowned, still not seeing what was so amusing. "I would imagine there are quite a few Aurors down there taking out old grudges at this moment, Millicent."

"...Ah." Well, she wouldn't stop them. "Well then, if that's sorted... What about the wand?"

"Indeed. That's slightly more complicated, I'm afraid. It was removed from the Potter's home, but no-one who has yet tried has managed to destroy it, or even so much as scratch it for that matter. Alas, it gives a nasty shock to anyone daring enough to try," Albus said.

"What are we going to do, then? We can't just leave it alone! It's an even bigger lure than the body - what aspiring Dark Lord wouldn't want to be able to claim that he could wield the wand that belonged to the most feared wizard of all time?" she snapped, running a hand through her hair in frustration. How he could say that without sounding the least bit worried, Millicent would never understand. There was obviously some Dark enchantment on that thing to protect it, and it wasn't likely to be a tickling charm. Trust You Know Who to make things difficult for them even after he'd died!

"We'll just have to keep it protected and away from anyone who might wish to make use of it," Albus said breezily. "'Out of sight, out of mind', as they say."

"I suppose so." She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, then said, "And you'll be the one to do that, of course? And _not _at Hogwarts. I don't like the thought of that thing being anywhere near children, even if no-one would ever stand a chance of finding it among all your junk."

"I'm sure I could find some dusty corner in which to secrete it, Millicent," said Albus solemnly, then ruined it by winking at her. He hadn't changed a bit since she'd been at Hogwarts, damn him. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to go see Emmeline Vance's family about her Final Rites. Good day, Millicent, Barty, Amelia."

As she watched him walk off towards the fireplace, she vaguely recalled that Emmeline Vance had been the woman You Know Who had killed getting to little Harry. Millicent supposed she'd have to give her an Order of Merlin, too - third class, perhaps?

"Minister, we must-"

"Go ahead, Bartemius. The sooner we get them all rounded up, the better."

**24th November, 1981 - Ministry Interrogation Room #5, Ministry of Magic, London**

**Shortly after the trial and conviction of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange**

"'Someone like you!' 'Someone like you!'" Karkaroff snarled, pacing round the small interrogation room like a trapped tiger. "Who does that worthless blood traitor think he is? If I only had my wand I'd blast what's left of his nose right off his face!"

"For which you would end up spending a great deal longer than six months in the no doubt delightful company of the Dementors, Igor. Abide his petty insults. Moody will meet a sticky end soon enough, for all his paranoia," drawled Snape, leaning close to his fellow traitor's ear as though to whisper a secret. "Besides, it is not him we should fear. Our fellows will not appreciate being turned in."

Karkaroff stilled with a shiver, but waved a dirty hand in casual dismissal of the threat. "I don't see who could pose a threat, Severus. All of the truly dangerous ones are locked up or dead - save for Malfoy, but dear Lucius always preferred words to action, didn't he? He won't be a problem," he scoffed.

Snape scowled, snatched Karkaroff's thin wrist out of the air and held it tightly. Karkaroff winced and tried to slip his hand out of Snape's grasp, to no avail. "Listen to me, Igor. Rabastan is still out there somewhere. Walden. Si-"

Karkaroff gave up and held still, staring flatly at his companion. "As though they'll be able to touch us. MacNair and Selwyn have already plead the Imperius, they won't want to put a foot out of line for a long time yet. And Lestrange was never as bad as the other two, was he? He wasn't exactly a master duellist. What have we to fear from them?"

"I sometimes forget you were never part of His inner circle. You've never seen Rabastan at work. He is ... more subtle. Certainly less openly insane. But he is no less sadistic, no less cruel. Bellatrix plays with her toys before she kills them. Rabastan breaks them. _Shatters_ them, Igor. There was a reason our Lord favoured him."

Karkaroff shuddered. "You've made your point, Severus. Fine. Say I believe you. But what good does it do me to know?"

"Just be careful. I can't protect you. Not from the Aurors, not from the Dementors and certainly not from our dear-" Snape was interrupted by a loud banging at the door, and a young Auror in official red robes entered. Snape smiled mirthlessly. "Visiting time is over, I see," he said.

The Auror nodded emphatically, looking very nervous to be alone in a room with two Death Eaters, even if one of them was unarmed and the other vouched for by Albus Dumbledore himself.

"Very well. Do say hello to all our friends in Azkaban for me, won't you, Igor?" And with that Snape swept out of the room, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Karkaroff slumped into a chair and tiredly ran his hands through his long and ragged hair. "Sweet Circe, I'm doomed, aren't I?" he asked the young Auror, and got no reply but silence.


	3. Naissance

**DISCLAIMER: **It still doesn't belong to me =[ That honour goes to JKR and Warner and co.

**NOTES: **Um, beware the fluff xD And Siri being even more immature than Harry. Chapter 4 _should _be up soon, but I'll make no promises. I'm very bad at keeping them, it seems.

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_"Like all of us in this storm between birth and death, I can wreak no great changes on the world, only small changes for the better, I hope, in the lives of those I love."_

**Chapter Two - NAISSANCE**

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**31st December 1984, St Mungo's Hospital, London**

**Harry is four and a half years old.**

The names on the doors were hard to make out in the murky light shed by the delicate and defective crystal bubbles that lined the corridor. Couldn't this have happened during the day, when it wasn't dark as a Dementor's soul in here? He didn't have time to stand here and squint! He needed to find Harry!

"Janus Thickey... Not the right one," he muttered, and ran to check the next door. _Dilys Derwent... Nope, not that one either. Abraxas Malfoy, ick. Definitely not that one. Hopefully never that one. ... Laverne de Montmorency_ - "Finally!"

He hurried into the room, but had only taken a few steps when he heard a yell and felt something attaching itself to his leg. He had his wand out and a curse halfway across his lips before he realised what - who - it was.

"Wha - Harry?"

"Uncle Siri! You're here!"

Sirius gave a short, embarassed huff, slid his wand back into its holster and scolded himself for being caught unawares by a four year old. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. _Villains these days. Just not good enough to keep me on my toes, I guess._

"Indeed I am. Hey, Prongslet!" he said, forgetting all that in favour of ruffling Harry's already unruly black hair.

"Aw, Uncle Siri!" Harry whined, frantically trying to make his hair lie flat. Sirius laughed at the poor kid's futile if totally adorable attempts. _Never gonna work, kiddo. You got the Potter hair and you're stuck with it._

After a while, Harry must have given it up as a bad job, because he flopped to the floor and glared up at Sirius. Sirius could definitely see Lily in those annoyed green eyes, and shuddered playfully.

Kid was gonna be a force to look out for when he was older, if he'd inherited Lily's temper AND her Death Glare™.

Speaking of Lily ... Sirius glanced around the room. He'd almost forgotten how much he hated this place, with its rickety chairs and piles of useless magazine back-copies, its dirty floors and grimy walls. They'd given Harry some coloured muggle things and a sheet of parchment to draw with, but there wasn't much else for a hyperactive four year old to do while he waited for his little brother to be born.

Not a bit of wonder he'd leapt at Sirius as though he had Cerberi at his heels. Poor kid was probably bored witless; he was way too smart to be occupied by scribbling for long.

"Uncle Siri?" Harry seemed to have given up on angry and was going for 'look at me, aren't I adorable' now.

Sirius crouched down so he was a bit closer to Harry's height. "What is it, Harry?" he asked.

"Can we go see the fireworks now?"

"Fireworks?" _What fireworks?_

"Yeah! They always do fireworks and they're really pretty and the big bell rings like this - dong dong DONG - and then everyone cheers and mummy and daddy said they'd take me but they're not!" Harry ran out of breath and pouted instead, stamping his little foot in righteous anger. Sirius tried to process what had been said. _Ah. The muggle New Years celebrations._

"I'm sure they want to go see the fireworks too, Harry," he said. "But your brother hasn't been born yet - don't you want to wait for him, so you can all go see the fireworks together?"

"He needs to hurry up already! I'm bored! Uncle Alby says I have to wait here, but it's boring. I hate it."

_I'll agree with that one, kiddo. He's got us all worried._ Lily might be muggleborn, but she generally respected old pureblood traditions enough to keep at least the really important ones. The sort of traditions even Sirius considered to be worth keeping. She had wanted to have the new sprog born at the Potter's house in London, with their Healer there to help, so for her to have had to come here...

The tradition of giving birth to children at the family home was one that almost everyone except a few ignorant or stubborn muggleborns and those who didn't have a family home to give birth in adhered to. For Lily to have to come here meant that there had been major complications with the birth and she'd been in danger of losing her life if she gave birth at Potter Place. The wards at St Mungo's were designed to keep people alive, feeding registered patients a little magic to help them survive - but you couldn't tap them enough to complete the ancient traditions that all purebloods kept to ensure talent and good health for their newborns. After all the time they'd spent getting everything ready (and Sirius had never realised quite how long it took to do everything right - the myriad amulets and toys, all painstakingly tied into the ancient family wards, that his parents had created for him at his own birth to guide him into the world seemed like something important now. It was odd to think that his parents had cared whether he lived or died, once upon a time.), for Lily and James to just abandon all that work ...

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone _very badly_ wrong, and looking at Harry's innocent, sulky face, Sirius was suddenly very glad for the invention of silencing charms. Harry didn't need to listen to whatever was going on in there.

Sirius sighed and flopped bonelessly onto the floor. He pulled his protesting godson into his lap and cuddled him against his chest. "Harry," he said. "Your mum and your brother are doing the best they can in there, okay? I know you want to go see the fireworks, but there's always next time. And look, there's a window - maybe you can see some of it from here?"

"Nuh-uh," said Harry, shaking his head wildly. "Can't. Can't see anything - it's all dusty!"

"Well, Harry, guess what!"

"...What?"

"I, the great and marvelous Master Auror Sirius Black, am a wizard! No mere dust can withstand my awesome powers!" Sirius said, waving his wand in the air above their heads. Harry made a decidedly unimpressed noise that sounded suspicously like stifled giggles.

"Can't!"

Sirius tutted. "What's this? My darling godson doesn't believe me? Well, we'll have to fix that!" He slung Harry over his shoulder and jumped to his feet. Whistling innocently, he approached the window, which was, as Harry had said, absolutely filthy. It looked as though it had been fifty years since anyone had put a cleaning charm to it.

... Come to think, it probably had been that long.

Harry beat his fists against Sirius's shoulder. "Lemme down!"

"Not till you admit that I'm the greatest wizard ever!" Sirius _scourgified _the window, with instantaneous results: the encrusted dirt changed from brown to a darker brown, on account of now being wet.

Sirius scowled at it. "_Scourgify_! _Scourgify_!"

Harry was giggling at his misfortune, the brat. "Told you so, Uncle Siri!"

"This evil window has clearly been cursed by a Dark wizard!" Sirius declared. "I shall defeat it, in the name of Gryffindors everywhere! _Scourgify_!"

"Did it work?" Damn brat was starting on sarcasm early.

"Yes!"

"You're lying, Uncle Siri. I can tell!" Evil. Harry was evil. And really, really mean, too. Sirius pouted.

"Alright, so maybe it's not quite clear... It's better! I can see the moon!" Sirius insisted.

Harry wriggled to be set down. "Lemme see! I bet you're lying, Uncle Siri."

"I am not!" Sirius set him down on the couch underneath the window. He pointed at a patch of the window that seemed a little lighter than the rest of it. "See, there's the moon."

Harry traced the shape of the full moon, and his finger came away covered in dust. He wiped it on Sirius' robes. _Brat,_ Sirius thought fondly.

"Wow. You're right." Harry sounded surprised. _Why_ did his godson sound surprised? "I can see it, too."

"So, now that we've establish-" Sirius cut off the rest of what he was going to say in favour of turning to see who had just opened the door.

As far as he knew, everyone who was coming was already there - and he didn't recognise whoever this was at all. He couldn't even make out the features; all he could see was their silhouette.

Apparently Harry did, though. "Stan!" he cried, leaping off the couch. Sirius caught him by the back of his robe-collar to prevent him running over to the stranger and reached slowly for his wand.

"Harry," the stranger - Stan - said. He stepped further into the room and the shadow resolved itself into a chubby, awkward boy, tall enough to be a third or fourth year at Hogwarts, maybe fifth at a stretch, but with an air of diffidence that made Sirius think him younger than that.

"Do you know this guy, Harry?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on Stan, although he did mentally relax a little. A kid, no matter who he was, wasn't going to be terribly dangerous. He'd be no match for Sirius Black, Master Auror. "What are you doing in here, kid?"

"We drew pictures!" Harry stopped struggling against Sirius grip. "Stan's my friend. Stop being mean!"

Sirius ignored Harry's protests in favour of glaring . "Is that true? What were you even doing in here?"

"Yep." Stan nodded, staring with obvious wariness at Sirius. "Got folks on this floor, what with the war an' all, 'choo know? We - being my Da and me - found 'Arry 'ere mucking 'bout in the corridors. Meant to bring him back to his ma an' da, but obviously that weren't an option." He tilted his head meaningfully towards the closed door of the Delivery Room. "Couldn't just leave 'im on 'is own, could we? Not with 'ow the Prophet says there's Death Eaters still about." Stan shrugged, as though that was obvious and Sirius had no cause to be worried about strangers talking to Harry.

It seemed reasonable though, and Sirius allowed himself to relax a little further, though he kept a loose grip of his wand. He nodded, and the boy took a few steps over to Harry, crouched down to Harry's level and extended his hand for his godson to shake. "It were nice meeting you, 'Arry. See you around?"

Harry shook it enthusiastically, holding Stan's proferred hand in both of his and swinging it up and down. Sirius wished he had a camera with him. "Yeah!"

Stan laughed softly, extricating his hand from Harry's grip. "An' keep drawin', right 'Arry? 'Choo got talent."

"What's your name?" Sirius asked, before Harry could reply to that. "Stan who?"

"Stan. Stan Shunpike. An' I don't 'ave to ask. 'Choo Sirius Black, of course. Caught a bunch'a Death Eaters. Saw your photo in the Prophet an' all." Stan smiled, hesitantly, and Sirius smiled back, and stretched out an arm to shake Stan's hand. Stan took it.

"That I am! Wanna be an Auror when you're older, huh?" Fighting bad guys all day, partying with the witches all night - who wouldn't?

"Dunno. Reckon it'd be awesome if I could, but 'choo gotta be right an' smart to be an Auror, don't 'choo? Not sure I'm up to scratch." Stan shuffled his feet a little, looked down and sideways - anywhere but at Sirius. Sirius frowned.

"Why wouldn't you be, kid?"

"I'm a 'Puff," Stan admitted, after a lengthy pause. Harry had been following the conversation, the dark little head swinging to and fro between Stan and Sirius, but seemed to lose interest while Stan thought and slumped back against the couch. He started poking Sirius's boot instead. "My Da says-"

"Let me guess," Sirius cut in, "Hufflepuffs never amount to anything, right?"

"Er - not quite -"

"But something along those lines?"

"...Yeah."

"He's clearly never met Amelia. She's my boss, and damn me but that woman would scare anyone. Bet you even his Grand High Evilness would think twice before he took _her_ on. And she's as Hufflepuff as they come."

Harry giggled into his hands at that, looking up at Sirius with deceptively innocent green eyes. "Siri said a bad word!"

"I did not! No bad words from me, mister. You got that?" Sirius mock-glared at the boy, who smiled beatifically up at him.

"Gonna tell mummy," he chirped.

"Nuh-uh. If you tell her, then I'll tell her aaaall about how you've been insulting me and pulling my shoelaces off. There'll be no icecream for a week, Harry, let me tell you that now."

"Nah. Mummy likes me more than you." He returned to pulling on Sirius's bootlaces with all of his previous enthusiasm.

"''Choo reckon I've got a chance, then?" Stan said. Sirius resisted the urge to grin. _Take that, Moony!_ he thought. _I can _so_ be a good influence._

"As good as anyone, as long as you work at it. That's what 'Puffs are good at anyway, good old hard work." Not that Sirius made a habit of working hard, but still. Even he knew you weren't supposed to say 'be lazy and all the fruits of other's labours will be dropped into your lap' during motivational speeches. Even if it was true.

Damn Malfoys.

"What year are you in, by the way?" he asked.

"Er- second."

"Woah." Sirius blinked. "You look a lot older than that. Heh. Bet you get that a lot."

Stan's mouth quirked into a rueful smile. "Sure do. 'ere, I'd better be off... me Da's prob'ly waiting on me. I were only supposed to be saying bye to 'Arry, 'choo know?"

"I guess you'd better run along then. Well, good luck, Stan. Feel free to send me a letter if you have any questions or anything. I'm always happy to help out a friend in need."

Stan smiled, crossed the small room in a few strides, and Sirius watched him pause for a moment at the door. "Bye 'Arry," Stan said, waving at Harry. Then he looked at Sirius. "Bye Mr Black." Then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Sirius shook his head, and drew Harry into a conversation that quickly turned into another game while they waited for the newest addition to the Potter family to be born.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sirius wasn't sure how much time had passed since Stan had left, but it was long enough for Harry to have fallen asleep in his lap. He smiled down at the sleeping boy, idly playing with strands of the silky black hair. His godson ... even four years after he'd become Harry's godfather on a night even more nerve-wracking than this one, he still couldn't believe his luck sometimes. Harry was such a great kid, especially compared to some brats. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd been stuck with Lucius Malfoy's spawn.

Or Lily's nephew, for that matter. Personality-wise, Draco and Dudley were practically identical. Sirius snickered. He was sure Lucius would appreciate learning that.

The door to the Delivery Room opened with a click. He jerked his head up, startled, and looked eagerly towards the figure standing regally in the doorway. Minerva McGonagall looked exhausted, but still held herself in the same dignified posture she always had. He'd only seen Minerva McGonagall with slumped shoulders once, and it wasn't anything he ever wanted to see again.

She was smiling tiredly. Good news. He'd seen smiles like that during the war, though not many. They'd meant 'it was hard, but we won.'

"Thank Merlin," he breathed. Lily and her child were alright, then. They'd gotten through it.

"Perhaps, Mr Black, instead of staring at me you might want to come see my godson?" she suggested, and beneath exhaustion the formal words Sirius could hear the doting pride. He nodded, and gently climbed to his feet, cradling Harry in his arms. He followed Minerva into the Delivery Room, now that the kid had been born and it was safe to go in.

"So, what're we calling Prongslet number two?" Sirius asked cheerfully, summoning one of the chairs sitting around the bed and plopping himself into it. Harry stirred and shifted in Sirius's arms, but did not wake.

James was beaming at him from beside the bed, his arm around Lily's shoulders. "Sirius, say hello to Nathan Percival Potter."

"...Percival?"

"Why, yes!" said Albus cheerfully from the other side of the bed. "He's named after me. What an honour!"

Sirius couldn't quite work out if Albus thought it was an honour to be chosen as Nathan's godfather, or if Nathan should be honoured to be stuck with the name Percival. He hoped it was the former. Really, _Percival_?

"Right."

Lily laughed. "You're just sore because that Percy kid in fifth ye-"

"Shush! Not one more word about it!" said Sirius quickly and loudly. He quickly looked around for something else to talk about - he did not want to talk about The Percy Incident. James had never found out, and he wanted to keep it that way. "I feel sorry for his Transfiguration class."

"...What?" Apparently no-one else could follow that non-sequiter. He, being the kind man he was, deigned to explain his thought processes.

"Kid's got two Transfiguration teachers as godparents and his father's got a Mastery in it. Lily's no slouch, either. Bet you he's a genius at it!"

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So, what do you think? :) Please review and let me know!


	4. Birthdays

**A/N** I nearly forgot to include Moony in this... whoops! XD Also, this chapter officially brings the wordcount of this fic above 10k – I'm so proud of myself :D I've never written anything this long before – at least nothing that had a plot. I've written 50k worth of Harry complaining about the Dursleys before (yay, Nano) but I don't think that counts xD Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/added this to alerts – you're all amazing and I hope you continue to enjoy :) Special thanks to VerboseVolition for inspiring me to actually _write _this chapter instead of just thinking about it. It's gone through about seven different rewrites, trying different things and hoping they'd work, so I'd almost given up on it... Well, I'll stop rambling – enjoy!

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**Chapter 3 - Birthdays**

**December 31st 1989 - Harry is 9 1/2, Nathan is 5.**

As it always was at this time of year, St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was festooned with all the gaudy trappings of Christmas; the whole place was decked out in green and red and silver. It all looked very muggle.

He'd never noticed that before. Mr Malfoy, the git, would be horrified if he knew.

So would Harry's aunt, for that matter.

He smiled at the thought. It amused him to think that the trinkets fluttering about overhead could have been taken straight from the Dursley's front room – because Aunt Petunia would have a heart attack at the way they were behaving. At Privet Drive, the tinsel might be arranged with military precision, the icicles stationed in neat little rows, but her ornaments would never dare to do anything as uncouth or unnatural as fight.

Angels and icicles vs snowflakes, baubles and stars – a constant battle fought under silencing charms for... what? He'd been sitting here for the past five minutes, breathing in the sharp acrid smell of hospital and watching, because he'd rather watch the decorations than listen to Neville stutter through another round of festive pleasantries with his mother, who didn't recognise him and never would, but he couldn't work out what the point was.

They might be fighting for the fun of it, he supposed. There wasn't much else to do here even if you did have enough of a mind left to want to do anything.

Suddenly Harry's mother towered over him, blocking his view of the fight just as the baubles double-crossed the snowflakes and started fighting for the icicles. Harry blinked. He hadn't even heard her footsteps approaching.

"You're in the way," he muttered.

"Harry, for goodness' sake, grow up," Lily said. She sighed heavily, then grabbed him by the shoulder, hauled him to his feet and started dragging him back in the direction of the Janus Thickey ward. "First that nonsense at the zoo, now this. Honestly, I've half a mind to confiscate that broom your father got you. That is your _godmother _in there. At the very least have the manners to say hello to her, after all she's done for you."

"Why? What's the point? It's not as if she'll care. There's more chance of Uncle Frank coming back from the dead than there is of her knowing who any of us are. She doesn't even know Neville!"

Lily's grip on his shoulder tightened, then slackened when the sting of her nails forced a hiss of pain from him; she stopped in the middle of the corridor and spun round to look at him, white-faced, furious. "Harry Potter, your godmother-"

"'Gave up everything so that Neville and I could survive'. I know_. _You've told us often enough."

Harry wrenched out of Lily's grasp and took a step back, fists clenched by his sides."Every single year, when we go to the grave, and then again when we come here, and_ then _you spend the rest of the day talking about how brave Aunt Alice and Uncle Frank were as well!" He took a deep breath, trying to rein in the anger that pushed against his skin, trying to escape. His nails bit into his palms. "The stories are bad enough. I mean I get why you tell them, but why do you always have to ruin Nathan's birthday with these stupid visits? Can't you see how much he hates it?"

"Harry – we're not ruining his birthday. This is important. It's about honouring their sacrifice."

"But why does it have to be today? Neville has a proper birthday. You have a proper birthday. That idiot Dudley gets more presents than he can count. The whole country sends mepresents. They even write newspaper articles about my party. I might hate it, but at least I'm not forgotten. Nathan? Nathan's birthday gets forgotten."

"That's not true! We never forget his birthday."

"It's never just his birthday though. It's New Years Eve and _the day of the attack_ and it's only his birthday after all that. He has to share it with two ghosts, and he thinks that you think that they're the more important bit. He'd never say it to you, but- he thinks you don't care about him. He thinks..." Harry trailed off, biting his lip, fists slowly unfurling as the anger drained out of him, leaving fatigue in its wake. How did you tell your parents that your brother thought he wasn't famous enough to have a birthday of his own?

Lily looked stricken, her eyes wide, hands trembling, as if she'd never even thought about this before. Maybe she hadn't. "We don't think that at all. Nathan-"

"Lils?" Harry's father put his head round the frame of the Janus Thickey door and peered at them, blinking behind his glasses. "Are you all right? Where was he? We were beginning to think you guys had gotten lost or something."

"He was over in Dilys Derwent, watching the animations," she said shakily. "Look, James, can we cut it short today? I – there's something we need to talk about."

James frowned. He stepped out into the corridor and wrapped his arms around Lily; she shuddered and leaned back against him. "Are you sure you're okay? Did something happen?"

"No, I – it's just been a long few days, and what Harry – I just need to sit down." She took a deep breath. "Let's go find Augusta."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Draconic feet clicked across cobble.

Dice rattled.

Nathan whooped and leapt to his feet to run a victory lap around the living room.

"I get Diagon Alley! I get Diagon Alley!" he sing-songed.

Harry glanced down; Nathan's dragon was indeed sitting on Diagon Alley, which had suddenly sprouted a tiny flag with the letter N. He scowled at the wayward Hungarian Horntail, who sat among the shops and smugly puffed tiny rings of smoke at him in reply.

"Some people have all the luck," he grumbled as Nathan sat back down, and reached for the dice himself.

An eight.

His broom zoomed along the cobble road, taking a corner at Go and screeched to an abrupt halt at Knockturn Alley. It drooped a little, landing on the board in a slow spiral.

James smirked at him and held out his hand, waggling his fingers impatiently. "Pay up, Harrykins."

Harry nodded to the tiny goblin guarding his galleons, who shook its fist at him but reluctantly started banishing galleons over to James's pile. "I'll get you back," Harry warned him, but his father just laughed.

"You can try."

"You bet I will."

The dice rolled again. "Alas," said Uncle Albus, as his phoenix figurine collided with Nathan's Horntail and narrowly avoided being bitten, "I arrive one turn too late."

Nathan cheered as more gold appeared on his pile.

The game went on, with Nathan steadily raking in more and more money, and Harry eyeing Albus suspiciously because he was twinkling too happily for someone who was losing so badly, until Lily stuck her head around the door.

"Augusta and Neville just arrived," she said. "If all you children want to come through to the dining room, we're going to start dinner now – dear only knows when Sirius will land in."

"A minute after midnight, probably," James said, rolling his eyes. He climbed to his feet and quickly cast a stasis charm over the board to prevent anyone sneaking back in and rearranging things.

Lily disappeared back into the kitchen, and the four made their way along the hall into the dining room, where Remus, Grandma Longbottom and Neville were already seated, deep in a discussion about plants. To Harry's relief, James quickly changed the topic to something he could relate to better: the recent woes of the Montrose Magpies.

Harry was halfway through his first plate of roast ham and yorkshires when the door opened, to reveal Sirius leaning against the doorframe. "You started without me!" He said, looking scandalised. He clutched at his heart. "I'm hurt, Lils, I'm hurt! I expected no less of that ugly brute you married, but I thought you at least would care about poor old Sirius-"

"Sit down, you idiot," James said, sending a plate over to Sirius's place at the table. "And stop bothering my wife."

Sirius grinned and pushed himself away from the door, sauntering towards the table and leaning on the back of the empty chair. Another face, vaguely familiar to Harry, appeared at the door behind him, peering about nervously.

"Sirius," Lily said sharply. "Who's that?"

"Ah! My plus one," Sirius said. He laughed a little, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Stan, I forgot about you for a minute. Look, you know the kid I've been writing to? Rescued Harry that one time when James-"

"Padfoot!"

_Stan? _Harry remembered, vaguely, laughter and a strange voice, a kind voice, and stupid little scribbles.

Sirius coughed. "Right, well, nevermind that, he wants to be an Auror so I've been helping him out and I happened to run into him in Diagon earlier and you know what they say about spending New Years alone so I thought he could come here. Is that okay?"

"You told him the Secret? Sirius-" Lily gave a strangled little moan.

"Hey, war's over. I figured Stan was safe enough. His Evilness didn't recruit ten year olds, or whatever age he was. Besides, he's a 'Puff. And he didn't run off with Harry that one time. Look, I'm telling you, he's a bona fide good guy!"

"Padfoot!" James groaned.

"'ere Mrs Potter, I don't wanna be a bother -" Stan said, shifting awkwardly in the doorway.

"No, no, Stan was it? It's okay. We'll not turn you away." Lily smiled at him, waving vaguely towards the table, although Harry, glancing up and down the table, couldn't see a space for Stan to sit, then she returned to glaring at Sirius. "It's these idiots I'm annoyed at. I want the whole story later, James. And _you. _What did I tell you about-"

"So I bring a Death Eater home one time. She wasn't even a _real _Death Eater! It spelled off! And," he added hastily, "it's not the same thing at all this time. Just in case any of you thought-"

"Mr Black!" Grandma Longbottom snapped. "There are _children _present."

"Sorry grandma!" Sirius said.

Lily groaned and buried her face in her hands, shaking her head from side to side. "I give up," she mumbled through her fingers.

Uncle Albus, sitting beside Harry, sighed quietly, and with a swish of his wand created a place at the table for Stan on the other side of Harry, and an upholstered chair to match the rest of them. "I fear, Mr Shunpike, that you have just walked into something of a madhouse. Resistance, I'm afraid, is quite futile."

"Dumbledore!" Stan's eyes widened. "I didn't expect – I mean – Professor – cor blimey, Sirius, 'choo oughta warn a man. Talk about exalted company, would you?"

"Advance warning takes all the fun out of it," Sirius said sagely, throwing himself onto his chair and proceeding to pile his plate with food. "Sit down, kiddo."

"Thanks ever so much," Stan said. He looked around the room, looking a little dazed, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, and then sat down. Introductions were made, then the table split up into several conversations once more.

"Harry – I dunno if you remember me, you probably don't, but we met one time in St Mungo's-" Stan said.

"I do remember, I think-" Harry frowned, thinking. "It was the night Nathan was born, right? You and your dad found me wandering about or something?"

Stan beamed. He must have been really pleased by that, Harry thought, because his accent got a lot thicker when he spoke again: "'Choo do remember! Aw, I can 'ardly believe it. I figured 'choo'd've forgotten. Cor, you've gotten a lot taller since then mind – and this is Nathan?"

At the other side of the table, Nathan nodded shyly, his dark eyes wide. "You were there the night I was born?"

"That I were!" Stan grinned. "And 'ere I am on your birthday again. Sorry I don't got a present for you this time either – I weren't really expecting to be here, 'choo know?"

"It's 'kay," Nathan said. "I never get many presents anyway."

The whole table went quiet.

Harry bit his lip. "Nathan," he said, sounding a little strangled even to himself. "Remember what we talked about last night?"

"Yeah. It's 'kay."

"They're not proper presents. It's always weird things like bubotuber pus and people's underwear and stuff. It's all 'cause I have this stupid scar..."

"Your scar's like a junk magnet?" Sirius said, grinning. "Hey, that's pretty cool. Maybe you can train it to attract-"

"Sirius!" Lily said.

"Such are the dangers of fame," Uncle Albus said. He produced a bowl from somewhere and took something out of it, then offered it to Harry. "Alas, people send me underwear all the time. I wish they would send me socks instead. Lemon drop, anyone? A little out of order, I confess, but I do find that they help ease one into these sorts of conversations -"

Harry should have known, really. When did Uncle Albus hand anything else out? Smiling slightly to himself, Harry took a couple and passed the bowl to Stan, who blinked at them, looked at Uncle Albus, then passed it on without taking one.

"Albus, you're incorrigible," said Aunt Minerva with a sigh, but she was smiling.

The conversation moved swiftly on to something else after that. Sirius lured Remus into telling tales about their days at Hogwarts, which Harry listened to with rapt attention, and before long the atmosphere returned to its rowdy norm.

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**So, what did you think? :D Please do tell¬! Reviews inspire me to write more, and I'm always open to constructive criticism if there's something you didn't like. Does everyone feel in character?  
**


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